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Lana rolls her eyes and picks up her glass. “Don’t we all.”
Sipping from her drink, leaving glossy pink lipstick all over the rim, her eyes scan around the room. She may technically be on her break but she’s always on the prowl for her next customer.
If I’m not cut out for this kind of work, Lana was born for it.
She’s absolutely stunning. Blonde, as tall as a model, with long, lean legs, and rocking an hourglass figure, she knows how to work everything God blessed her with.
I’ve yet to meet a man she hasn’t been able to wrap around her little finger.
And honestly, I can’t blame them.
The way they have us dress around here, in skintight shimmering white dresses, leaves little to the imagination.
At times, I even find myself checking her out.
In fact, during my first couple of weeks of work, I briefly considered switching teams.
The only thing keeping me from going down that road of exploration being that I seem to be dead inside.
Whatever spark most of us carry around… that spark of life that demands to be fed has been snuffed out.
I don’t know if it was Kyle that killed it or something else.
But it’s gone.
I’ve tried. I’ve tried to get… excited for someone, anything. But even in the privacy of my own bedroom, the desire isn’t there.
It’s like the lower part of my body has been completely turned off.
And I don’t know if I can turn it back on.
I don’t know if I want to turn it back on.
The thought of feeling anything for another person again, besides Abel, scares the living shit out of me.
“So what do you plan to do after this?” Lana asks casually as she brings her attention back to me, but I sense an ulterior motive.
I know most of the women working here understand that it’s only temporary. Dancing is merely a steppingstone to help them get to bigger and better things.
A means to an end.
While I hate the men, hate that places like this exist, I admire and sometimes envy the other women that work here. Not only are they in control of their bodies and sexuality, something I’ve always struggled with, they’re some of the hardest working people I know.
With big dreams and aspirations.
At least half the women are working to pay for college, and the others are saving up to do things like start their own businesses.
“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” I admit.
And it’s the truth.
The goal right now is to complete the job at hand. I don’t like to count my chickens before they hatch.
Because I always end up being disappointed.
I used to have dreams of going to college one day. Of earning my degree in something that would provide a stable living.
But Kyle squashed all of that.
